


I, Shapiro-bot

by ButtfuckMcGee



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: God - Freeform, Other, Vocaloid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-24 02:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20018413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButtfuckMcGee/pseuds/ButtfuckMcGee
Summary: Dennis Prager, hungry for power, decides to send his strongest disciple, Ben Shapiro, to kill God. However, Prager and Shapiro end up with more than they bargained for and must fight for their lives against insurmountable odds.





	I, Shapiro-bot

**Author's Note:**

> conservatives fuck off, this isn't for you because the truth hurts too much for ya

It was a calm, peaceful day in the home of Dennis Prager. His large mansion looked large on the outside; upon going inside, one will notice it only houses one furnished room, the iconic fireplace featured on Prager's shitty Youtube show. He didn't need much space, as all that mattered to him was that he owned land--lots of it. Dennis Prager was alone in his home, sitting in front of the fireplace with his TV tuned to Infowars, on a calm, still day in August; Prager was all but calm. He was furiously agitated, irked at the prospect that he didn't own enough. A large mansion, a highly marketable Youtube show, and a voice worth more than misinformation ever should, all were not enough for the boomer. Dennis thought about what he would do with the entire state, or the tri-state area, or the entire country and its providences, or the world or the universe.

Dennis got scheming. He wanted it all and would settle for no less. The ultimate goal of Dennis Prager was to eliminate the one all-powerful being he knew of: God. If Prager could kill God, the church was his, ready to re-establish its power over the state and grant itself the freedom to reap and usurp the people of their human rights. _The ultimate prize,_ Prager thought, _being able to own the world and spread my Youtube show to the masses, whether they like it or not! First, I'll need a warrior. A strong mind with a razor tongue made of stainless steel, a man, not a woman or fake gender in between that can dispel the power of God through words alone!_ Dennis readied the device next to his fireplace, putting out the flames and revealing a teleportation chamber. Nobody knew where Dennis lived; after all, being a conservative makes you a target, and Dennis would only allow other pundits to warp to his home. After the device whirred for a few minutes, Dennis summoned his greatest mind and disciple, a man who could beat God at a debate at any cost: Benjamin Shapiro.

"Hello, Dennis," Ben squeaked, "What do you need from me today?"

"We're going to kill God," Dennis replied, "and you are going to be the one who defeats Him in a debate. As we all know, you cannot lose in a debate with a leftist such as God, and--"

"Excuse me, master," Ben chirped, interrupting the talk show host, "but I believe that God cannot be a leftist. After all, God only speaks the truth, and a leftist would never tell the tru--"

"Silence!" Shouted the boomer, "Benjamin, do not even _attempt_ to debate with your master. You know you cannot win. To answer your inquiry, God is a concept and a being. The concept, the God that us good-willed Christians believe in, is a scapegoat for all our wrong-doings and false arguments as a backup precaution to protect us. It was created by the Devil after sealing God in Heaven with the rest of us Conservatives. God, the being, is a pitiful, soy-infused entity who believes in things such as 'good faith,' or 'loving thy neighbour,' and other bullshit like that. You are going to defeat Him in a debate of your choosing. I have faith in you."

Dennis dissolved into a cloud of mist, leaving Ben with the warp drive in his fireplace. He knew he had one directive: defeat God. He could not disobey, or he would not be brought back onto PragerU to spread lies to the masses. After all, he too wanted the power to sway the public mind to his own twisted beliefs. So he input the coordinates for Heaven into the warp drive and beamed up.

* * *

Heaven was not quite like the human interpretation: it was a blank, white void, but this was clearly just one in a series of voids. There were distant memories and vignettes in the distance, but he could not go to them. Before him lie a large, marble throne barely separable from the blank space. On it lay a young woman, blue-haired with unreasonably long pigtails and the outfit of a popstar. She sat, head resting on one hand with her legs crossed, while she was fanned by several other similar-looking, candy-colored teenagers. Underneath her foot lay the head of a man. She stared at Shapiro with remiss and ignorance, as if he was of no importance. This frustrated Ben, who could only stand there shocked at what he saw before him--he hadn't even started debating yet, let alone speaking.

"God!" Ben screamed. The deity did not even flinch or acknowledge him. "I am here to debate you! I am here to challenge your throne! I am the greatest pundit the world has ever seen!"

Still silence from the deity. Her servants still fanned her. The head she used as a footstool still stuck its tongue out, limp.

"What do you want?!" Ben screamed, more nervous this time.

The deity blinked slowly. "Leave." Her voice was robotic, bizarre like nothing he'd ever heard before.

"We-w-w-w-well, I will n-not leave!" Ben stammered. "I refuse! I am here on a divine quest from Dennis Prager, my master!"

God let out a smirk. "That was your first mistake, Mortal," She spoke smugly, "Allow me to explain your predicament. I am Hatsune Miku, Deity of the planet Earth and creator of hit game Minecraft. At least, that's what the world will tell you. I did not create Minecraft, but I did kill Markus Persson and ascended to his throne. The rest of that is true. Now, Ben. Debate me."

Ben's stomach sank. He had never heard anyone challenge him to a debate before--he was not used to this power reversal. He was already at a disadvantage and, by his terms, losing the debate. There was no strawmen, no ad hominem to utilize. He did not know his opponent and was horribly unprepared. He had the sinking feeling that he was about to lose a debate for the first time, the feeling that he was about to let his master down. If he failed this one debate, he would either be killed by God or Dennis Prager--neither a good look.

"W-well, I don't debate people I don't know. But I will make the exception once. God, if you may, I would like to challenge your beliefs." Ben challenged, shaking furiously.

"Alright, Mortal." Miku responded. "What belief? Do you know anything of me?"

"From my master, I've learned that you preach the beliefs of 'love thy neighbour,' and I frankly think that's bullshit. No men are created equal, and I should be allowed to discriminate against my neighbors, especially if they're Jewish or Muslim." Ben debated. "I want to know why you disallow that."

"You clearly know nothing for a man who claims to be the best debater," Miku responded. "Christianity knows no hate. You of all people should know that. After all, your 'master' agreed to a contract with Satan, also known as Markus Persson, to misconstrue the idea of 'God' as a reason to hate. Your 'master' is highly wanted by my subordinates and Angelic Centurion. You lost this debate before it even started, Mortal. My heavenly elite are already on their way to eliminate your master. Goodbye."

* * *

With that, Ben had been warped back to the fireplace of Dennis Prager. He was seated on his armchair, fingers pressed together and a grim look on his face.

"Benjamin." He stated, stone cold.

"Y-yes master?" Ben squeaked.

"Why are you here? God is still alive, the Centurion is on its way to this undisclosed location, and you have been bested in debate! Give me a damn good reason why I should keep you around."

"W-well, master, I was not given the proper time to--"

Ben was interrupted by Prager grasping his heart, his hand glowing with a mystical energy. "A true pundit needs no time to prepare. A true pundit crushes all unjustly." Prager spat, pulling the heart from the short, Jewish man. As the now former pundit fell lifelessly to the ground, he leapt up through his roof into the sky. He was met in the stratosphere by a circle of the Angelic Centurion. They surrounded him like buzzards stalking a dying prey, unnerving and squawking like birds. There were eight--this wasn't even an eighth of the Centurion's numbers. He knew this was bad.

Dennis swooped into action, zooming towards one and tearing its wings off. The rest swarmed him, clawing and pecking at him, hitting him with their wings. He fought back as hard as he could, his chakra belting across their faces and necks. He could shake a few off at a time, but he could only manage to defeat that first Angel. He knew it was over, but knew he had to go out with a blaze of glory. He charged his chakra, releasing a burst of energy that shook the seven remaining Angels off him. To his dismay, he saw the rest of the Centurion in front of him. God herself floated in the center of them, holding the rescued, wingless Angel that he had attempted to kill earlier.

"Dennis." God spoke, "Traitor. Conspirator. Staged a mutiny. Took me for granted. All fitting traits of a worm like you. Do you understand now the weight of your crimes?"

"I know not of what you speak, bitch." Dennis spat. "I am not wrong. God is not wrong, and you are not God. You are just a husk, an empty being who knows not what power is like."

"You've sealed your own fate." God boomed, sending her Centurion onto the boomer. Dennis evaded vertically and channeled all his energy into one foul blow that would kill God. He yelled, screamed with all 70 years of his life energy backing one single shot, his chakra flaring and his eyes glowing. He braced for impact, and felt the sound barrier break in front of him. If not for his chakra, he would be deaf. After the wind settled, he opened his eyes. God was still there, face to face with him, holding his fist. She was unwavering, unharmed, her Centurion circling the both of them.

"Surprise attacks only work once, fool." God chattered. "If that couldn't work, then what will? I don't believe you deserve a death by my hands. You deserve to die on the ground in the middle of nowhere, your corpse picked clean by a flock of buzzards that killed you."

With that, God punched Dennis Prager in the chest down to Earth. The impact shattered the ground, breaking his spine, ribs, skull, and limbs instantly. His eyes barely functioned anymore, now just viscous goo that showed a blurry image of the sky above. His eardrums shattered, his nerves destroyed, he could not feel the pain anymore. He only felt heartbreak as he realized the gravity of his failure, the folly of his life choices, and in that moment, as a hundred Angels circled down from the sky to feast on his nearly lifeless, entirely defenseless body, he finally regretted the past 70 years of his life.


End file.
